Twenty Days of Tears
by YagamiNoir
Summary: In twenty days, a certain Albisian Bee courier will be promoted to Akatuski. For the twenty days she has left to spend with him, Sylvette will resolve to coming to terms to her deep romantic feelings for him before he departs. Leaving a fountain of tears with each day. [Lag x Sylvette]
1. Prologue

**Twenty Days of Tears: Prologue**

She couldn't say it was the easiest job in the world, but it was something she enjoyed and took pride in, the years she'd proceeded in her doll making. The Albisian girl was one to rush for deadlines and scramble for creativity; she was one to create "adorable masterpieces", as she worded them - that would attract the hearts of innocent young girls. True to her wording, her dolls sold in Catan was famous across Yodaka and the Yussari districts, and it was how she settled her living during her life of solitude at a young age.

It was such in how the life of a young, orphaned girl - Sylvette Suede, had proceeded with every day, this being another of her tranquil evenings she spent at home through every day. It was always her alone in the kitchen, and as she continued fiddling with her stitches of yarn, she waited for the soup to cook in the old pot, that had rusted over the years with every day she used it. The table appeared slightly untidy with her tools and pieces of yarn scattered around, as she continued with another base of her dolls, this time being another one of her trademark teddy bears. She had the basic structures with the limbs and shapes ready, but adding the detail itself was inevitably difficult. Challenging as it was, the enjoyment of her completing a doll was something she'd always look forward to.

Halting her work temporarily again in response to the rubbling sound of the pot, she decided the soup would be different today; apart from her standard vegetables and the original recipe from the canned soup, she decided to top off a few extra ingredients to nourish the flavour. Apart from doll making, the young girl also had a passion for cooking, and it wasn't surprising that she was also talented at it, and would get visitors to her house, even if only to share a meal with. Particularly Connor, and as she continued with her soup she remembered he and Zazie would arrive in two days time for dinner. (Of course, with the exception of her soup, in which again no one has had the courage to be frank to her yet). Taking a small portion with a wooden spoon, she tantalized her tongue softly on the small sip of her newly made soup, feeling satisfied with her improvisation.

She turned to the nearby clock that informed her that Lag and the others would be back very soon, deciding to set up the table for dinner, setting aside her undone work. Subconsciously, she suddenly felt mildly more down, as if she anticipated something dreadful were too happen. It hindered her for a brief moment before she disregarded it, setting down three bowls of her special soup on the table.

"We're back!" The front door opened and welcomed the familiar footsteps of a certain Albisian Bee boy and his golden-haired Maka dingo that entered Sylvette's residence. As if she had anticipated their arrival perfectly - wondering perhaps how habitually such a thing had grown for the extensive time they had shared together - she rolled herself to the door, and, with a nostalgic phrase, "Welcome back!" She replied them, pleased at their return. For a girl that spent most of her life in solitude, their company was certainly something she treasured and looked forward to with every day.

It wasn't long until she got closer to the young Letter Bee that she realized something was different with him as he returned that evening. Sylvette examined Lag, her housemate for nearly four years on end, and the shine of his Letter Bee uniform seemingly dirtied, dampened by what seemed to be rain water or mud. His Albisian white hair that grew over the years admittedly needed a trim at this point, and like his clothes, mud seemed to stain his thick layers of white, fine strands. Sylvette barely held her nose on the mild, unpleasant stench of sweat along with the displeasing odour of the dirt from outside. What in Amberground had he been doing?

Niche, with her morphing golden hair, seemingly untainted by the toils of their journey, gently stroked Steak, who appeared rather tired, on the head.

"You're very tired, Lag..." Sylvette said. "And look at you, you're in quite a mess, are you not? But if you're so worked up like this, why isn't Niche like that as well? Did something happen?"

Niche suddenly began to rant frustratingly, rotating her golden pigtails as if they were windmills - rather, their sharp edges made them more like razor blades, since their sharp edges meant that cutting through anything in the house would require little effort. Thankfully, she didn't manage to break anything - Lag and Sylvette would cringe at the expenses that cost them in an effort to relieve the damage Niche dealt sometimes.

"Niche was forced to not help Lag for one full day of deliveries! Niche was really bored! Niche hated it!" Even after so long, Niche's ways remained child-like, and Lag knew better than anyone in that it would take more than time itself for the Maka-born girl to grow. Sylvette giggled slightly, amused as she understood her frustration.

"Oh, I'm sorry..." Lag apologized, sheepishly smiling. "I suppose I kind of got roughed up in today's delivery. After all, I had to cross Shark Cape, so there was a lot of climbing involved, and I had to fight a Gaichuu as well. Simultaneously, it was also a sudden test to that of which I would make deliveries without Niche's help, in accord to a request from the government..."

"A request?" Sylvette was more concerned than curious. Lag had been working himself off his own limits lately; it was hard enough to find him in the morning since he'd leave the house with Niche before she woke up.

"My Akatsuki promotion. I just got it today."

"You're...being promoted to Akatsuki?" Her words came out slowly as her tone grew faint, as if her surprise had manifested into something and strangled her neck. Inevitably, parts of her also began to shiver, although she tried to keep it in.

"Yup!" Lag's embarrassment shifted to prideful excitement. "I finally got it after all my hard work! Isn't that great?"

"And...when are you being promoted?"

"I'll be heading there in say...twenty days. On the 313th day, two days after the Day of the Flicker, on the eleventh Niku Bifrost train."

"I see...That's...great, isn't it? Congratulations, Lag, Niche." Sylvette found it hard to excite herself over the matter. Pleased as she was for her friend - no, family -for his achievement, her heart began to peel beneath the happy facade she responded Lag with.

"Thank you, Sylvette. I should be grateful to you, for taking care of us for so long. We wouldn't have done it without you, of course."

"The soup's ready on the table! I'll just go settle something in my room and I'll set up the bread and cheese, OK?" Finishing her response somewhat hastily, Sylvette rolled to the halls towards her room, leaving the Albisian boy mildly curious.

She made sure the door was closed as she stared out into the balcony, watching the dark, starless evening sky. She stayed inside the darkness of the room, as she could restrain herself no longer. Her body began to quiver as a teardrop slid down her cheek as if a transparent knife of sadness had sliced through her, before her azure eyes succumbed to the streams of water that were no longer held back. Having heard such news made her _sad_.

She wanted not to progress through the toils of losing someone she loved yet again. Within every day Lag spent with her, her untouched feelings only continued to expand. She saw in him the brother she had lost, yet at times there was the wall of uneasiness that separated from him, that made her heart race with everything he had done for her - he had been her beacon of hope, and through time and time, he had evidenced it with his many deeds. When her brother Gauche had disappeared, it was Lag who helped her escape from the shackles she enveloped herself with, and better yet, Lag's effort had actually returned her brother back to her, even if it was merely his own shell. Noir had visited her once in a while throughout the years, and maintaining their connections was something that made her very happy. Of course, all the happy things that happened in her life had Lag as the common denominator; it was thus throughout the years did the Albisian girl realized in her current age she had truly fallen for the boy.

Yet for a girl with the bitter past of losing someone she loved at a young age, Sylvette feared she was seeing in Lag her brother Gauche's adamant determination all over again. She remembered the day when the rainfall signified the day Aria revealed to her with the heartbreaking news of her brother's disappearance, and how she delusionally tried to bear with it as the years passed. Even if things turned out well in the end, having lost someone so dear - having been hurt like that - and having that repeat itself would give her only the pain beyond salt in an open wound. And would her ever stronger feelings for Lag - the boy she loved but would lose in three weeks - hurt more than her relinquished resolve towards her brother?

At that moment, what saddened her above all else, however, was that she was sad towards Lag's happiness. She blamed herself for tearing up in response to one of the widest smiles Lag had given her in the time they shared.

Why should it be - for her to face Lag's genuine smile with teardrops of such sorrowful, perhaps selfish remembrance?


	2. Day 1: Tales of Melancholy

Twenty Days of Tears: Day 1: Tales of Melancholy

The evening went on slowly, as Sylvette continued in wait at home for Lag and the others to return for supper. As of today, she was examining the ingredients she bought this morning, since Connor and Zazie would be arriving for dinner tomorrow evening. Devising a plan for the courses that would be served during the meal, she recalled the ingredients she had bought and finally decided to make a palatable meal compromising of whipped potato, sirloin steak, and shepherd's pie, as well as her (self-proclaimed) quintessential soup.

Having bought extra steaks, Sylvette decided to try a new recipe for the night for dinner. Most of the subsequent work in preparing it involved a series of somewhat simple procedures, albeit for a seasoned cook like Sylvette. The steaks were now cooking in the oven after she marinated them, and her soup was settling on a low fire in the pot. All she could do for the next thirty minutes or so, was to wait. To pass her time alone, Sylvette decided to explore her old bookshelf where she kept her childhood memories of leisure locked up within pages of weathered, dusty pages of storybooks.

Since her youth, Sylvette was an avid bookworm, and the many tales within the engrossing pages inspired fantasy and fictional thoughts within her. With her time with Gauche, it was no surprise that the happy moments between them had cradled a happy Sylvette with longings for a happily ever after in the future.

What came after that, happiness only seemed to be prejudiced toward her. It left her only slight traces she should care and treasure for, regardless of how small.

 _And left her to eat her heart out after she had collected her due._

With a lightened mood after reentering old stories, that seemed to fascinate her once again after the long distance she had kept them aside, she flipped upon a page where a poem and extravagant art illustrated it, written by an ancient Amberground poet, Zephyr Faust:

* * *

~ The Promise of the Winds ~

She saw them there

Under the evening sunshine

The rain of dandelions

The pleasant scent of irises

Alone, the two of them, it was all perfect align

The gusts of the spring enveloped them;

And his eyes oathed to her: "I shall return, no more wars."

His hands vowed to her: "My heart and soul, forever yours."

His heart promised her: "Your sadness but a story read,"

His lips reassrured her: "For when I return, your sorrow will be shed."

And a ring he slipped on her finger: "We meet here again, and we shall be wed."

'Twas long since their oath, till it came on that day

With the petals of the flora at the winds, asway

Veiled and in white she was, tranquil, in wait

For their reunion, and the love they should share, in spate.

The sky's orange draped itself black

Yet to come he was, inside, her heart began to crack

A tear she shed, and a whisper she heard

She wondered, and was she haunted or reassured

She felt him, she heard him - but yet, why was he not there?

What should she have felt at the sound - to be happy, or to despair?

Her emotions, her tears - Sorrow or joy?

An illusion amidst her confusion

Or the winds at her feelings, the truth nothing but coy?

* * *

Perhaps amidst her days where she read the book with the understanding of an innocent young child, she would yet to comprehend the deep, sorrowful meaning that belied in the poetic array of words. Reading it now, of course - the Albisian girl had since grown to be a young, fair adult, going through the toils of fate and chance that swayed as if a pendulum oscillating both sides in all her life. She had been through much emotion - sweet euphoria, heartache of bitter sorrow. Yet as of now, the spots of tears landed and dampened the illustrated pages of the book, signifying her heart had been captured by the grasps of sorrow as helplessly as if an insect in a spider's web.

Inevitably, she related the story to herself - whereby you would lose someone you love, never to return. Throughout her journeys through endless pages of stories filled with her beloved and compelling aspects of romance, she had yet to find herself affected by such a tale with tearful endeavor. Of course, with the given news last night, perhaps it was right for her to feel this way, vulnerable to the song of the story more than she should be; it wasn't her choice to bear the sorrow of an impending, shattering parting.

Glancing at the clock on the wall as she would always during the evenings in where Lag would return, she tried to resist the water in her eyes from flowing out of their pockets influenced by her sadness. She wanted not to welcome him with a face filled with tears of unhappiness, wanted not of him to know that his forthcoming departure alone had left her heart stabbed by daggers with each passing day before he would leave. It pained her to endure, even if it was only a day of which she had collected the news of Lag's approved promotion.

It somehow hurt more that she was now more understanding and mature, unlike the ignorance and innocence she once had as a little girl. For a five-year-old, the simplicity of an sister losing her only brother, the only person in her family was painful enough, but for Sylvette now quite grown up, she succumbed more to the melancholy of losing someone precious to her, moreso than in her sorrowful past; her brother's excitement to Akatsuki were her dewdrops of tears in her childhood, yet Lag's similar ideals brought her streams of her sadness and hurt beyond description.

Perhaps it was that different? To love someone for being family, and to love someone romantically? And the seemingly steep difference in the impact of losing these people so dear to her?

The knock on the door signaled Sylvette to brush off her woebegone face before welcoming her housemates, as the Letter Bee and his dingo entered; thankfully, Sylvette had managed to wipe off the last traces of her tears before rushing to attend to Lag and Niche at the door.

"We're back, Sylvette." Lag gave off his daily phrase as he would always when he came home.

"Welcome back," whispered Sylvette, a mild reluctance coating the forced smile she had on her face.

"Oh, that's right," Lag reached for his bag and shuffled within it to withdraw a parcel, handing it to the Albisian girl. "You've got mail."

"Mail?" The unexpected surprise caught her for a moment, emptying her sullen heart stained by negative emotion she tried to supress. "For me?"

"So it seems." Lag replied, removing his Letter Bee jacket. "I guess I'll go get dressed and we can open it together during dinner, okay?"

* * *

The aromatic scent of Sylvette's steak left the working threesome mouth-watered, despite that fact that her soup obviously didn't. Dinner was now being served on the table, as Niche began to munch on her steak quickly and somewhat messily, as Sylvette reprimanded her for the umpteenth time over her voracious way of eating, as she would always.

"Now, let's see what's inside..." She began to carefully open the parcel, gently removing the taped pieces of brown paper that concealed the item inside. Sylvette received the item wide-eyed and excited. What first appealed to her eyes was the recognizable title; "Reverend's Fables: Rewritten", the title of the book of stories she'd wanted from Vincent Alcott, whom had since erected a successful writing career as the years passed. The cover of the moderately thick book, illustrated with the finest art, further compelled her. The works of Reverend Hausen, a historical novelist and playwright, were rare masterpieces that Sylvette coveted, and to have all his finest works complied into one meant that the book was expensive, but worth the cost; that is, if Lag didn't insist on paying for it in her stead.

"This is... the book I wanted from Vincent!" She exclaimed. "Thank you, Lag! I've wanted this book for quite a while!"

"Don't mention it, really." Lag said, tantalizing his tongue with another bite of Sylvette's steak. Lag seemed very impressed by Sylvette's newly made steak, which seemed to grace his appetite perfectly especially after a tedious day of work. To Sylvette's amusement, it left him complimenting her rather obsequiously. "I like the new recipe, by the way. What did you put in it this time? I love it; and I trust Connor's going to love it as well." He remarked, a stain of sauce on his cheek as he flashed a wide smile at her - the smile she loved and made her pulse race.

As of that moment, Sylvette's earlier melancholy seemed repulsed over the barrier of happiness the boy had given her, and kept to itself, waiting until she was vulnerable again. Their home on that night was filled with joyful chatter and warm interactions, much like the sweet, comforting nest of a family.

* * *

The late night in the house was tranquil. Lag, Niche and Steak were now sound asleep in their rooms, as Sylvette peered at their peaceful faces before she closed the door. Wheeling back to her room, she sat on her bed and reached for the book she had just received nearby. She turned to the corner of a page that was slightly folded, marking the folio where Sylvette had last read. Fascinated by many fables encased within the book, she now continued with a story that was of a romance that didn't disappoint her expectations, as she now attentively rolled her eyes over the neatly written words that formed the content of the book, anticipation welling up in her as she continued towards the story's climax.

* * *

 _"I was hoping you'd arrive." The princess seemed very pleased at the knight's arrival._

 _"A promise never broken," replied the man._

 _"How are the current tides of the war?"_

 _"I'm to guide an evacuation," The man said. "Beneath the Solstice Precipices. Enemy forces have managed a surprise ambush."_

 _"I hope the war is to end soon," The princess murmured. Fair skinned fingers entwined with the man's gloved, thicker ones. "Long I'd missed you since you were sent."_

 _"Everyone does, your highness. To that, we simply strive on with our lives on the line, bound by duty to protect our country."_

 _"I wish I could run away," She confessed. "I wish you - we - could. To an eternity together. Never to part, never to fear."_

 _"Responsibility is not something I dare relinquish," A small silence blocked the man's tongue before the words emerged. "You know that all too well in that you are also not spared from it, princess."_

 _Her lips frowned. "I care not. Such things are in the way of what is truly important."_

 _"Love?"_

 _"Love," She reaffirmed. "Unwavering love."_

 _The breeze filled the vacuum of empty silence as their eyes locked at each other. The female's azure eyes were of expectation; and the man's violet ones, where a coat of hesitance, empty of emotion, veiled the pupils._

 _"You've lost sight on what's truly important," He said. "Love cannot surmount the country's crisis. Only by setting it aside, may we perhaps emend it for the better."_

 _"Hadn't we oathed since out youth in that we'd progress through our story-"_

 _"Perhaps, but stories end," His voice was the cold of a winter's breeze, releasing his grip. "Yet with an epilogue, a new story blossoms anew. Mine is simply dictated to war. To duty; to protection, and sacrifice, if need be. As of yours, your Highness, it belies in the safety of the castle, to keep watch over the nation, until the war ends."_

 _The icy chills froze her heart into a fragile diamond, that crackled and shattered with every word that sliced through the glass, like the blows of a warrior's sword._

 _"I wish you well." His final words came out bluntly as he disappeared into the tress, barren of their leaves in the forest cursed by winter, footsteps carefully working on layers of thinnest ice, cold as his response._

 _And in that one moment of despair, the burning heat of sadness expressed itself in the girl's tears that flowed down her cheeks, unfrozen by the winter cold, the wintry winds and the snowfall that hailed above her mocking and derisive._

* * *

The only person awake in the house cried again. Evoked again of the tears she had shed over Faust's poem, the story reawakened her disconsolate expression. Another stream of tears cascaded down her rosy cheeks, the pure water reflecting paranoia and desolation. She imagined herself mustering all her courage to plea to him to stay by her side and never let her go, fearfully depicting him giving the same response the man did in her story; plainly telling her that duty was all his life had to him, and that nothing else apart from that mattered. Thinking of that, the memory her brother's resolute resolve, that led to the loss of his heart, related to her again and carved another hole in her already miserable demeanor.

She had not expected the book to sadden her to that a degree, the deliverance of an assertive despondency entering her, silent like an inanimate stone, yet swift, like the flight of an archer's arrow, piercing through her heart. She covered her face again, reaffirming her heart-wrenching ordeal, and hoping her sobs would not escape through the door that stood slightly ajar.

 **L** **ife is busy. Life is tedious. And isn't going all that well. But at least I manage this different style, although it might still be semi bad-ish. I need to step up my game.**

 **Oh, and _I wrote that poem_. A long time ago. Hope you guys like it.**

 **Disclaimer as always; I do not own Tegami Bachi.**


End file.
